


And They Were Soulmates

by wingdinger



Series: Soulmate AU - Persona Sharing [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Denial of Feelings, Kissing, M/M, Persona 5 Spoilers, Slight Persona 5 Royal spoilers for Akechi's confidant in 2nd chapter, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingdinger/pseuds/wingdinger
Summary: Soulmate AU in which persona users can summon the personas of their soulmate. Akira manages to call upon Akechi's persona, and Akechi doesn't take it too well.Spoilers for Persona 5 vanilla.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Soulmate AU - Persona Sharing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033473
Comments: 40
Kudos: 577





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can be alternatively titled: Akechi Goro is a hot mess and Akira is pretty. Title and soulmates AU idea from [unfunny-quips on tumblr](https://unfunny-quips.tumblr.com/post/623125265193811968/hiding-these-god-tier-ideas-in-the-tags-is-an). Spoiler heavy, please don't read if you haven't played the game. I mean it, Hlia!

He isn’t hyperventilating.

He isn’t and will not start hyperventilating because he isn’t some weak-willed nobody gallivanting around the metaverse without a care in the world like these idiotic Phantom Thieves.

And especially not because he witnessed Loki, _his persona, the representation of his will,_ appear behind and be commanded by these idiotic Phantom Thieves’ even more idiotic leader.

“Crow! Are you okay?” Ann appears in front of him, hands hovering above his head. Akechi warily peers up at her, wondering when he had started crumpling into himself.

After a moment, whether it was a few seconds or several minutes, Akechi cannot tell, Ann purses her lips and nods jerkily once. She crouches down, places a hand on Akechi’s shoulder, and speaks in a soft voice that he immediately despises.

The carpet is hard underneath him; he should have known that Sae, even subconsciously, would insist on the accuracy of inane details and make the casino carpet of her palace as dirty and uncomfortable as its real-world counterparts. Nevertheless, he lets Ann guide him into a sitting position. Her hand moves slowly up and down, a gentle act of reassurance he doesn’t need or want.

He doesn’t need to be coaxed, he doesn’t need to be handled delicately, and he certainly doesn’t need to be pitied.

“Hey, I’m here. It’s okay,” Ann says.

He tries to suppress his glare when he looks back at her.

“Just breathe. Try breathing through your nose?” she continues.

Akechi does, if anything it’ll get her off and away from him. He stares into her eyes, willing himself to relax as her doe eyes watch on encouragingly. Eventually he feels his breaths come in slower and the tingling feeling in his hands subsides. His sword falls to the floor with a dull thud as his fingers unclenches.

He forces a pleasant smile, and she finally draws her hand back with a reciprocated one of her own. “Are you okay?” She repeats the question in a much less hurried voice. Akechi tucks his hair behind an ear and laughs softly as if in embarrassment.

“Yes, thank you. I suppose I am not as used to fighting as you all are,” he says.

A quick scan of the room and he realizes all eyes are on him. He raises a hand sheepishly. “My apologies, everyone. I won’t slow you down.”

They seem appeased with that, minus Ryuji, ever the bullheaded loudmouth, who pointedly mutters next to Akira. “Too late for that.”

Akechi ignores him, the intense gaze Akira is giving him captures his attention far more easily. He suppresses a shiver and tilts his head in question.

Akira blinks rapidly, snapping out of whatever reverie he was in. “Can you stand?” he asks.

“Oh yes, excuse me,” Akechi responds quickly. He picks up his sword and takes care to stand with his usual grace. He offers a hand to pull Ann up, completing his princely appearance with a small bow once she’s straightened up.

When he looks back at Akira, a smirk that makes him feel like a rug has been pulled from under his feet creeps across the other’s face.

“Okay, let’s move,” Akira says before dashing off.

Akechi takes another deep breath and joins the rest of the team trailing behind their leader.

They have him swap out of the frontlines for the time being. He agrees without quarrel, the opportunity to observe the Phantom Thieves in action this close proves to be much too tempting.

With the next shadow they encounter, Haru steps forward and summons her persona. She casts mapsio, downing one enemy with a critical hit but missing the other. She huffs and runs to Makoto. “It’s your turn,” she says with a high-five that turns into a light grasp. Akechi watches with raised eyebrows as Haru skims her fingers across Makoto’s arm before leaping away.

Based on his observations in Okumura’s palace, Makoto has a persona specializing in nuclear attacks. He personally would have passed the baton to Akira, who no doubt would have at least one psychokinesis skill somewhere within his myriad of personas. Perhaps the group needs healing, he surmises.

His mouth falls open when the persona Haru had summoned earlier appears behind Makoto as well. The baton pass increases her attack enough for her casted psio to take down the shadow.

“Surprised?” Akira’s voice jolts him to attention.

“Yes, well, I believed it incredible enough for you to have multiple personas, but to be able to share them as well is rather unthinkable!” Akechi says and laughs airily.

He’ll have to scrutinize whatever other abilities the rest of the thieves may be hiding.

“It would be useful to have access to Joker’s personas, however I can only control my and Noir’s persona,” Makoto says. She looks off to the side, a light blush barely visible underneath her mask. A blush that becomes more vivid once Haru loops her arm around Makoto’s.

She smiles pleasantly at Akechi. “I’m able to use Johanna as well. That’s how we learned we were soulmates,” she says before turning to focus her attention on Makoto.

“Soulmates?” Akechi feels his blood run cold.

“Yup yup,” Futaba pipes up, “their personas cover their weaknesses too, it’s perfect!”

Akechi’s fingers dig into his palms. When Akira had summoned Loki, he thought he had imagined the persona’s absence in his heart. The thought of belonging to someone, and someone belonging to him-- he never asked for it. Especially not with a boy he’s planning to paint red with a bullet between the eyes.

Thankfully, the others don’t notice his internal conflict and instead choose to banter amongst themselves.

“It’s a shame Panther and I did not end up being soulmates,” Yusuke is saying, “it would have been a great advantage to have her persona accommodate for my weakness to fire.”

“Ugh! Don’t say that so casually,” Ann says with a blush rivaling the color of her leather suit.

“Is there a problem? I assure you I have no underlying intentions, I merely desire a way to cover all possible defenses.”

“Sheesh, you don’t get it.”

“Speaking of personas,” Makoto cuts in, “we haven’t seen the one from earlier before, Joker.”

Akechi’s breath stills as Akira glances quickly at him. He rubs the back of his neck, the deep red color of his gloves disappearing in thick black curls. “Yeah, he’s new,” he says.

“Did you go on a mementos dive without us? Joker, we told you to stop doing that,” Futaba says.

Akira puts a finger to his lips and winks, which, infuriatingly enough, comes off charming rather than the annoying response it is.

“It was rather impressive,” Akechi says slowly, a hand to his chin. He notices the flash of confusion on Akira’s face, though it quickly morphs into a lop-sided grin. 

Akira shoves his hand into his pockets and rolls his neck. “Any secret persona up your sleeve, Crow?” he says smoothly, as if they’re in on a joke together.

Akechi gives him the fakest smile he can plaster on his face.

“None that I am aware of.”

Akira’s grin doesn’t falter. Instead, it seems to grow wider, and Akechi’s mind is scrambling to say something, anything to wipe that infuriatingly perfect grin off his face. When he comes up with nothing, he resorts to grabbing at low-hanging fruit. “I suppose you’ve charmed a great deal of people to have garnered so many personas? What would your soulmates think once they realize they are only one among many?”

Finally that confident front cracks. Akira looks away and fiddles with his bangs. “It’s not like that,” he murmurs.

“C’mon, enough standing around. Let’s go already!” Ryuji’s voice rises among the chatter.

“Right,” Akira says and pulls at his gloves, “keep up, Crow.”

“Yes, ready anytime.” Akechi avoids rolling his eyes.

\--------------------------------------

They arrive at the elevator Sae’s shadow had used and are in the middle of discussing their options when a shadow appears and bursts into an Ose.

Akechi swoops in on the opportunity.

“I’ll handle this,” he says, “I need to prove my worth to you, after all.”

“I have high expectations.” Akira grins again.

“I promise to surpass even such lofty hopes as those.”

An overwhelming urge to summon a persona unfamiliar to him overtakes him. He feels his eyes twitch as he tries to ignore the new voice filling his head. It laughs in a voice eerily similar to Akira’s, goading him to let go of pretenses-- there is no need to be so difficult, he would be able to use the persona’s curse skills easily.

Akechi draws his power in--

_Call upon my name, and release thy rage!_

And forces past the nausea, the pounding in his head, and the nerves in his body screaming at him to give in. Akechi carves his own path, and has always gone against what fate had in store for him, he’s not going to let it decide what direction his life will take now.

He pushes away the voice into the recesses of his mind and concentrates on calling his persona. Robin Hood manifests beside him, standing proudly amongst swirling blue flames. Relief washes over him; he lets himself breathe finally.

“Ah…” Akira’s voice is soft.

Akechi chances a look over his shoulder. A low curl of satisfaction hums through his skin at the disappointment so apparent in Akira’s expression. He turns back to the shadow with renewed motivation.

“Well then, let us begin,” he says, unable to hide the smugness creeping into his voice. “Don’t worry. You can leave this one to me. Take them down, Robin Hood!”

A quick megidola eviscerates the Ose in the blink of an eye. Akechi replaces his mask, spins around with a pirouette just to be extra annoying and beams at the group.

He’s ready to head up to the upper floors now, but Ann and Makoto are hesitant. He goes along with their decision to leave. It doesn’t matter what they choose to do, how they choose to act, when they choose to act, not when he has their leader's arrest carefully planned

He stares into Akira’s eyes unabashedly. He’s since schooled his expression, completely devoid of that sad puppy dog look from before. It’s a shame, Akechi rather liked that look on him.

He stretches his arms once they’re out of mementos and in front of the courthouse. “If there is nothing else needed, I’ll be taking my leave. You have my number,” he says and starts to walk away.

“Wait, Akechi,” Akira says.

Akechi stops, raises his eyebrows at him. Even the other Phantom Thieves have stopped in their tracks to watch their leader.

“Your persona, is that its only form?”

“Hmm? I’m not sure I understand.” Akechi smiles and tilts his head slightly, a finger tapping his chin. “Are you saying persona can have more than one form?”

Akira’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, I thought maybe-- no, never mind. See you around,” he says and turns to go in the other direction.

Akechi keeps the smile on, even when his hands twitch in response to seeing Ryuji sling an arm around Akira’s shoulders. He keeps it on even as he watches Akira laugh uninhibited while leaning into the other’s side.

_Are you simply going to watch?_

“That’s enough of that,” Akechi mutters to himself, turns on his heel, and walks off.

\--------------------------------------

His phone rings with yet another notification. He sighs and places his fork down, he was rather enjoying this particular slice of cake too.

He at least feels some relief upon seeing that all of his missed notifications were from the Phantom Thieves group chat, and were not instead a barrage of angry texts from Shido. He opens his messages and reads the most recent texts.

**Makoto:** I’m sorry, I have to commit to student council work today.

**Futaba:** struck with a status effect!! and Sojiro already caught me trying to sneak out today (ㆀ˘･з･˘)

**Akira:** That’s fine  
We’ll manage with the three of us

Akechi picks up his fork again, intending to take his time and relax for once on a Friday afternoon.

_Death awaits him if you do nothing._

He very nearly slams his fork back down. Slowly, methodically, he rubs the knit between his eyebrows. He really had been enjoying the cake.

**Akechi:** You’re meeting above Leblanc correct? I’ll be there soon.

\--------------------------------------

He doesn’t know why he bothered.

The bus, or the Mona Bus as the Phantom Thieves affectionately call it, rattles around and then lands after crashing into the back of yet another shadow. Ryuji is whooping in the passenger seat, and Akira…

Well.

Akira has the most beautiful, crooked grin on his face, broken only when he tosses his head back in uproarious laughter.

It’s too much for Akechi to bear, and he’s about to look away and out the window, and nearly misses seeing Akira’s mask flare with blue flames.

“What in the world was that?” He leans forward.

Akira doesn’t react at first, but then swings his head back suddenly. “What was…? Ah,” he breathes out.

Grateful he had the foresight to take off his own mask during the car ride, Akechi definitely does not feel a flush creeping up his neck when the tip of his and Akira’s noses brush. He also definitely does not bring up his hand to cover his face to hide said flush.

“My apologies,” he mutters. “I was referring to your mask.”

“Right, um, yeah.” Akira clears his throat, chuckles a bit when Ryuji grabs his shoulder and jostles him good-naturedly. “I can recruit shadows to become my persona.”

“Fascinating! Then, is it correct for me to assume that this is the ability Queen was referring to? To think you could collect personas through such a violent method.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t make it sound like such a bad thing.” Ryuji rolls his neck. “Besides, Joker usually sweet talks them.

“Sweet talks?”

“It’s better if I show you,” Akira says and crashes into a shadow that is strong enough to force them to clamber out of the bus for a proper battle.

A pair of Girimehkala burst out of the shadow, swords at the ready. “Aww, these guys are a pain in the ass! What should we do, Joker?” Ryuji says.

“We haven’t tried everything yet, so,” Akira says and pulls out his gun.

Hurriedly, Akechi places his hand on the gun and pushes it down. It earns him a quirked eyebrow. “If I may,” he says and summons Robin Hood.

“It’s up to you then.”

With two quick kougas, the two Girimehkala crumple. They surround them and Akechi waits for the signal to strike, but it never comes.

“Wait…! I’ll give you anything!” the shadow says.

“Let’s talk,” Akira says, unphased.

Akechi, in bewilderment, looks over sharply at Akira. The latter smiles and mouths ‘don’t worry’. He looks back at the shadow as it continues speaking.

It’s strange, watching Akira exchange pleasantries with an enemy, a shadow no less. The conversation is nonsensical, Akechi can’t follow the flow at all. In all the years he’s spent traversing the metaverse, he has never let a shadow speak after its first begging cry, preferring to cut down his enemies as quickly as possible.

Eventually the Girimehkala gets up and turns into swirling blue lights. They form into a replica of Akira’s mask, rushing at him in the blink of an eye. Akira cradles the fire before it goes out, grinning and looking no worse for the wear.

“Thanks, Crow. How did you know its weakness?”

Akechi laughs airily with a shrug. “Lucky guess.”

“We could use more of those ‘lucky guesses’.” Akira flips his knife around as he walks past him. “Let’s go.”

He bends down and ruffles Morgana’s head in response to his cry, “Ugh, we’re right here!” and continues to do so until he has to dodge the cat’s claw swipes. He looks back and beckons Akechi over once Morgana transforms back into a bus, smirking when Akechi acquiesces.

A simmering heat settles in his core, and Akechi honestly cannot tell if it’s from a desire to kiss that smirk off or a desire to carry out his assassination.

They continue traversing mementos, settling back into their chaotic rhythm of ramming into shadows and spinning in circles before uncovering new paths. Taking advantage of the presumed amount of time they will be spending in mementos, Akechi prods Akira with questions pertaining to recruiting personas.

“Then how did Queen negotiate with Noir’s persona?” he asks after Akira describes the different responses he’s given depending on the persona’s personality.

“Uh, there was no negotiating, dude. They’re soulmates,” Ryuji snorts.

Akechi feels his smile start to strain. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.”

Ryuji stretches out in his seat and waves his arm around, nearly hitting Akechi’s head with the lazy gesture. “Soulmates, you know, your fated other half or whatever,” he says.

“I’m well aware of the concept. However, I fail to see what it has to do with--”

“Nothing shows your inner self more than your persona, right? It’s basically their soul marks. Which you share. Didn’t they teach this at your grade school?”

Akechi drops the smile, barely hiding his scowl. He readjusts the cuffs of his sleeves and looks at his reflection in the window, wondering if he had looked so tired since the beginning of venturing into mementos.

“No,” he says.

There’s a pause, then, “Well...” Ryuji drags on the word. “It’s a thing. I’ve got something on my leg here.” He props his left foot up on the dashboard and pulls up his pant leg. A sleek black lightning bolt with roses embellishing the ends climbs up from his ankle to his calf. “My mom almost fainted when she saw it, thought I’d gotten a tattoo.”

“You should’ve seen him the day after! He kept looking at girls’ legs and tripped onto his face like an idiot,” Morgana rumbles around them.

Ryuji punches the roof of the bus, earning an enraged meow. “Shut it, cat!” he yells.

“Don’t rush it, Skull. You’ll find your way to each other eventually. Anyways, aren’t you supposed to feel some sort of connection when your soul marks interact?” Akira says.

“Hey, yeah! Maybe I’ll meet her during a morning jog. We’ll feel a spark when we cross paths, and she’ll be a real cutie and-”

Akechi rolls his eyes and ignores the rest of Ryuji’s romantic fantasy. He props his chin up with his hand and watches the endless red hallways, the chatter between Akira and Ryuji soon becoming white noise. 

Then Ryuji asks, “What kinda person do you think your soulmate is?”

That gets Akechi’s attention. He doesn’t stop looking out the window, but tilts his head just so.

Akira hums pensively, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel slowly. Though quiet, the sound seems to drill into his ears in the silence.

Finally, “Likes coffee and enjoys challenges. Quotes Hegel.”

Akechi chokes. Thankfully Ryuji’s voice cuts in, loud enough to cover Akechi’s coughing, “Hegel? What the eff is that?”

“Joker…” Morgana’s voice comes in through the speakers, sounding exasperated.

Akira laughs quietly. Through the window’s reflection, Akechi can see Akira turn his head back to look at him. He catches his eye without thinking and receives a wink in return. To his horror, heat builds and creeps up his neck.

He contemplates taking out his ray gun and shooting him point blank right here, Shido's plan be damned.

“We’re here,” Akira says, breaking Akechi out of his thoughts, and steps hard on the gas pedal to enter the swirling vortex before them. They run out after him, somersaulting like the show-off he is, and confront the shadow waiting.

Akechi believed he would be prepared for this particular target during Morgana’s debriefing, but the words from Oda’s shadow still disorients him.

“No one will help a single mother! Everyone just looks at me coldly!” She shrieks, “Everyone is my enemy!”

He needs to leave.

“You’re making your son suffer,” Akira says.

The words, the noise, everything is drowning out around him. Only the sound of his breathing and heart beating is audible through his muffled hearing. He pulls out his sword mechanically, as if an outside force is controlling his actions.

The battle itself isn’t difficult. However the Yaksini has an absurd amount of health, dragging on the amount of time they have to spend with the shadow, with this struggling single mother, far longer than Akechi would have liked. By the time they defeat her, his ears are thrumming from the blood pulsing harder and harder through them.

As he puts his weapons away, he notices Akira stepping towards Oda’s shadow.

“I lost. I’m going to get everything taken from me again… Society sees me as a loser. I’ve got no money. I have no reason to be proud of myself…” Oda’s shadow says.

Akira is quiet for a moment. He adjusts his gloves, seeming lost in thought. “You have your son,” he says slowly.

“I have Shinya… Yes I realize that now. The greatest happiness was with me this whole time. I have to be a good mother for his sake.”

Her shadow vanishes in a shower of light. Akechi looks away as it does, the bright rays too much for his eyes after venturing in the darkness of mementos for so long. “Did you mean that? Or do you simply tell your targets what they want to hear?” he asks when Akira walks by him.

Akira stops, looks at him. Akechi keeps his eyes on the ground.

“I meant it,” he says.

He says it so simply, too simply. 

“Yo! We heading up or what?” Ryuji shouts from the bus.

“Let’s go back,” Akira shouts back in response. Then softly to Akechi, “Come by Leblanc? It should be quiet tonight.”

There are dozens of things Akechi should take care of with the free time he has left for the day. He thinks about the police reports he still needs to write, the Japanese essay he needs to finish, the grocery run he needs to make, and the numerous house chores he has been neglecting. Even if he were to take some of his work to the cafe, he has no doubt that he will end up entirely distracted and make no progress with it.

His mouth chooses to betray him and says, “A cup of coffee would be delightful.”

\--------------------------------------

As expected, Akechi only manages to write a couple sentences before pushing away the sheet of paper in front of him. He had completely intended to finish at least one report, but Akira had turned his innocent question about human morality into a much too engaging debate. Leblanc empties without him noticing, and Sojiro waves off his insistence to leave as well as he closes up shop.

“Keep him out of trouble,” Sojiro says and tips his chin towards Akira.

“I’ve only been a good, rule-abiding honor student.” Akira pauses his pour-over to protest.

Sojiro chuckles in response and leaves.

Akechi spends the rest of the evening trading ideas on battle tactics, all the while scrutinizing Akira’s eyelashes to determine whether he uses false lashes or mascara.

“I promise,” Akira says and laughs, the coffee sloshing precariously in the carafe he’s holding, “I promise I don’t do anything to them. They’re real.”

“Now how can I just believe you? A detective must always use all evidence available to reach a conclusion,” Akechi says, feeling a bit more bold with his newly filled third cup of coffee.

Akira sets the carafe down and leans down with his elbows on the counter. His chin falls on his interlaced fingers, allowing Akechi a direct view of those unbelievable lashes. “That’s true,” he says. “Then, what do you need for me to convince you?”

His lips curve into a mischievous smile. It’s dangerous; their entire back and forth has been dangerous.

“There is another question I have yet to ask you,” Akechi says, looking down at his coffee to distract himself.

“Hmm?”

“You have multiple personas. From my understanding, sharing personas should be an ability innate between soulmates. Yet you’re able to negotiate with shadows. Haven’t you ever wondered if you’re manipulating someone’s heart to become your soulmate?”

Akira straightens up and fiddles with his bangs, echoing his actions from Sae’s palace. “It’s not like that, it’s--”

He sighs, and then retreats to the kitchen. Akechi sips his coffee as the sound of the faucet turning on and dishes clanking reach him. He can wait.

He’s halfway through his second report when Akira emerges in front of him. He looks up, chuckling at the disgruntled expression on the other’s face. Clearly, Akira had expected him to have left by now.

“Yes?” Akechi says sweetly.

Akira’s lips twist in every which way, eyes narrowed in silence.

Akechi tilts his head coyly.

“They’re dead,” Akira blurts out.

Of all things Akechi had been preparing himself for, it certainly hadn’t been that. “I… if you would elaborate. I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“The personas tell me I say things that reminded them of their past user’s soulmate.” Akira rubs his neck. “During negotiation, I mean.”

“I see. However, it seems rather extreme to conclude all those personas come from the deceased.”

“They feel… different. Arsene always felt alive. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Akechi’s fingers curl on the counter at Akira’s failure to mention Loki. The fool manages to coerce his persona, take a piece of his heart, and can’t even notice it belongs to a living being. Perhaps he views Akechi as lifeless as the cognitions in the palaces. Puppets that act and chatter incessantly to the will of the palace ruler.

A puppet for the media. A puppet for the police. A puppet for Shido.

“Akechi?”

He looks up, breathes slowly, and smiles pleasantly. Akira’s face is significantly closer than before. Akechi reaches out with his hand, causing Akira to blink rapidly and then fully shut the eye Akechi’s left thumb approaches.

“What are you--”

“They are the genuine article after all,” Akechi says and sweeps his thumb lightly across the eyelashes, humming in satisfaction when Akira’s cheeks steadily grow pinker with each second. He places his palm onto the radiating heat of his skin.

“I’m quite envious,” he murmurs.

Akira lets out a shuddery laugh. “You shouldn’t be. They fall into my eyes all the time.”

“Is that so? Then I suppose admiring from afar is my next best option.”

“I don’t think you know what afar means in this situation,” Akira quips, because of course he has to argue even when so obviously nervous.

Akechi hates that he finds it endearing. “My, my, look who is acting as the detective here,” he says. He shifts his hand to run his fingers through the flyaway curls near Akira’s ear. A fondness he never thought possible fills his entire being when Akira leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering closed.

He can’t think clearly, the urge to lean forward overriding any rational thought. His lips brush against Akira’s, and all he can focus on is how unexpectedly soft they are.

Emboldened by the hand that comes up to spread out on his chest, Akechi moves his own hand to grasp the back of Akira’s neck and angles him just so to slot their lips together. He presses in harder, eliciting a high pitched whine from Akira’s throat.

The sound electrifies Akechi from head to toe, but then he’s being pushed away gently. He stares in confusion, too absorbed by Akira’s flushed complexion to form any coherent thought.

“We shouldn’t do this now,” Akira says.

Akechi, realizing his hand is still hovering in the space between himself and Akira, draws it back sharply. He tucks his hair behind his ear and sniffs. “Oh, well, that was presumptuous of me. I do apologize for assuming...” The legs of his chair scrape against the floor as he stands. “I’ll be off. Don’t mind me.” 

He begins shoving documents into his briefcase, not caring whether they wrinkle or tear, and walks quickly to the exit. “I’ll be available whenever we infiltrate Sae’s palace next. Until then--”

He has one foot out the door when Akira’s warm hand wraps around his arm. “Wait, you’re misunderstanding,” he says.

Akechi barely restrains himself from twisting around and using his free hand to strike him hard enough to make his glasses fall off. He pulls his arm ineffectively, Akira’s grip keeping him in place. “No, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I am able to reconcile with rejection, so there is no need to--”

“I’m telling you, that’s not--”

A sharp sensation, almost burning like fire but icy cold at the same time, forces them apart. Akechi grabs his arm instinctively, but the sensation fades away immediately. He glares as Akira holds his hand out in bewilderment, staring at it as if it were an object foreign to him.

“What was that?” Akechi says, a growl creeping into his words

“You… do you have a soul mark?”

_Vow to me._

Akechi jerks back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m leaving, goodbye,” he says and breaks into a run.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the train station, panting and head spinning. He sits on the far end of a bench and places his forehead against the cool steel of his briefcase.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU in which persona users can summon the personas of their soulmate. Akira manages to call upon Akechi's persona, and Akechi doesn't take it too well.
> 
> Spoilers for Persona 5 vanilla.
> 
> Slight Spoilers for Persona 5 Royal in this chapter.

The Phantom Thieves enter Sae’s palace again the following Saturday and Sunday. Akira acts his usual self, still tossing remarks with flirtatious undertones at Akechi as if nothing had happened. Unwilling to back down, Akechi responds to each one easily and more heavy-handedly.

By the time they secure the route to the treasure, Akechi would not be surprised if the rest of the group are conspiring on how to kick both him and Akira out and continue their escapades even without their leader.

They’ll have to learn to act on their own without Akira's presence soon enough.

He supposes Akira’s charisma is the main reason each member of the Phantom Thieves joined. Even with a tendency to speak only a few words at a time, something about him makes Akechi want to share personal details of his past. He admits he got carried away, allowing himself to become quite attracted to and, even worse, attached to his target.

He grimaces when Akira summons Loki on their way back to the palace’s entrance. To think he had been tricked so easily to entertain the idea of sharing personas with a soulmate, when Akira simply had the ability to recruit personas.

Though the possibility of his heart being manipulated by Akira enrages him, he decides the best course of action is to wait before retrieving Loki. He can manage the ridiculous little crush that has formed until then.

They regroup in Leblanc’s attic. Akechi stands with his hand on the back of Akira’s chair, and makes the suggestion to wait until November 18th to send out the calling card. A suggestion that is, predictably, met with weariness.

Though Makoto does eventually agree with his reason for delaying, it is up to Akira to make the final decision.

He spins his phone idly, only snatching it and holding it in place when he cranes his neck backward. Akechi nearly jumps from the soft impact Akira’s head makes with his chest.

“Alright, let’s do it,” he says, looking impossibly handsome even with his hair squished against Akechi’s sweater.

“Ugh! Go flirt on your own time,” Futaba yells. She jumps off her perch and twirls around with an accusatory finger. “I can’t hear anymore of this or I’ll pass out from rolling my eyes so hard. Are we done?”

Akira laughs and dismisses the meeting with a lazy flick of his hand. Akechi makes to leave along with the rest of the group, but stops when Akira calls his name.

Ann, Morgana, and Ryuji, who are still hanging around the stairs, look pointedly between them.

“Wait for me in front of the cafe, I'll come out soon,” Akira says to them.

“Okay~ don’t get carried away,” Ann says while pushing a grumbling Ryuji down the stairs, Morgana trailing behind her heels.

Akechi turns, annoyed that his heart skips a beat because they're alone again. “Is there something you need?” he says.

Akira rubs the back of his neck. “Can I see your arm?”

“What an odd request.”

“Let me see it. Please.”

Akechi had checked in the morning for anything out of place on his person and had found nothing. Yet, he feels nervous peeling his left sleeve up.

He displays his bare forearm, a few light scars almost invisible to the naked eye present but no distinguishable marks. “I'm not sure what you're looking for,” he says smoothly, watching for any changes in Akira’s expression.

“I guess I wasn't sure either,” Akira says after a moment. He flexes his hand, staring at it intently. “It’s nothing.”

“Well then, if that’s all you needed.” Akechi rolls his sleeve back down, gives it a few good tugs. “I will see you again when we send out the calling card.”

“I want to kiss you.”

It feels like the air has rushed out of his lungs. Akechi winces at the sharpness of his cough. “Come again?” he croaks.

Akira stands up, takes a step, shakes his head, and then stays in place with his hands in his pockets. “Is it that hard to believe?”

Akechi grits his teeth. If he wasn’t so annoyed, he would have honestly been impressed by Akira’s boldness. He faces him, intending to end this entire nonsensical charade.

“Of all the unbelievable--! Truly I--” he mutters angrily. “This is what you wanted to talk about? I cannot fathom--” He’s in Akira’s space with two quick strides. His brain short-circuits in the process.

“Utterly ridiculous,” he breathes before seizing the lapels of Akira’s jacket and pulling him into a clumsy kiss.

Akira’s hands scramble up his sides and tangle in his hair, making a mess of half an hour of work straightening stubborn locks. The soft, short gasps Akira makes almost allows Akechi to forgive him for it.

Almost.

He shoves him against the wall, crowds against him, and pushes his tongue into his mouth without preamble. Akira opens up to him eagerly, wrapping his arms around Akechi’s neck as if he’s the one trapping Akechi into their position.

It’s sloppy and they lack coordination, and yet it’s better than anything Akechi had imagined since their first kiss. Fighting against the desire to press in even harder, he pulls back abruptly.

He feels a smug elation when Akira leans forward desperately, glistening red lips slightly parted. His eyebrows furrow once he realizes Akechi is too far out of reach. Akechi presses a thumb down on his bottom lip, breath catching when a tongue flicks against it.

He can’t let himself get distracted.

“We shouldn’t do this now,” he says, throwing Akira’s words from that night back at him.

Akira’s face morphs into disbelief, and then he huffs loudly with a smile. “Right, I can’t keep them waiting,” he says, bringing his arms down to his sides.

Akechi smooths down his sweater and combs his hair with his fingers. It won’t look perfect, but it’ll look less like he got handsy with his target who he has a tentative alliance with and more like he missed a few locks during his morning routine.

He looks over at Akira, who also has straightened out his clothes and who motions towards the stairs. “After you,” Akira says.

He’s just about to descend when Akira calls his name again. Irritated, he whips his head back. “What is it now?”

His question comes out muffled towards the end as Akira kisses him again, soft and brief. “You forgot this,” Akira says and steps back.

“You’re ridiculous,” Akechi mutters, and then clears his throat, “Remember, the 18th.”

“It’s a date.”

\--------------------------------------

**Futaba:** i need help on my mission. leblanc asap. hurry!

There is no sense of urgency that Akechi can detect upon stepping into the attic. He looks at the message from Futaba in the group chat and then looks at her laying on Akira’s bed, legs swinging back and forth and holding playing cards in both hands. He looks back at the message.

“How long are you going to stand there for? Come and draw a hand,” she says, waving him over.

Akira and Yusuke look up from their huddled positions, give him a short wave as well, and return to mulling over their own cards.

“I apologize, but what mission were you referring to?” Akechi says.

“Learn more about my generation!” Futaba says.

Akechi adjusts the grip he has on his briefcase. “Well, if we’re not entering mementos today, then I think I’ll have some coffee while I’m here,” he says after a moment.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Bring some snacks up too.”

“What? I’m not--”

“I got it,” Akira says and stands. He places a hand on Akechi’s back, warm as always-- Akechi can’t help leaning into it, and guides him down the stairs. “Sorry, we should have mentioned beforehand what Futaba’s personal missions are.”

“And what are they exactly?”

“Didn’t you hear? Today it’s to learn more about our generation.” Akira rubs his neck, a fond smile gracing his lips. 

The sudden desire to to push up against and kiss him again crops up. Akechi stamps it down, contemplating if the duplicates of personas Akira has successfully negotiated with become struck with infatuation as well. In the metaverse, the feeling may be much more amplified and debilitating. It could prove to be advantageous as a status effect.

Akechi shelves the thought for later.

“A worthy endeavor. Though, even with the information she has access to, it may be difficult to understand exactly what makes our peers these days tick,” he says.

Akira laughs. It’s endearing, too endearing, Akechi needs to find a way to mute his own brain so he can stop mooning over every little action.

Akira leaves for the convenience store down the street, and Akechi sits in his usual spot at the bar. Fortunately, he has enough paperwork with him to occupy his time. The coffee at Leblanc may be just the thing he needs to get through all of them in one sitting.

His focus is deterred only by a cream pan placed gently on top of the document he was poring over. Akira waves off his insistence to reimburse him.

“Stay until we’re done. There’s something I want to do,” he says.

“Well, I was planning to be here for a while. I do enjoy the coffee,” Akechi responds with amusement.

It’s about an hour or so later when Akira comes back downstairs with Futaba and Yusuke in tow, the two chattering while occupying the booth in the back. Akira walks behind the counter and puts on an apron.

“I hunger! Akira, it’s curry time,” Futaba says.

Sojiro chuckles and admonishes her to keep her voice down in front of his customers, albeit half-heartedly since Akechi is the only other person in the cafe.

“I don’t mind at all,” Akechi says, smiling.

“I can’t let her make a habit of it.” Eyes on Akira, he tips his head towards Akechi’s cup. “Top him off, will you? And give Yusuke a plate too.”

“You have my thanks,” Yusuke calls from the corner. Sojiro gives a short grunt in response before taking off his apron and leaving for groceries.

The familiar scent of his usual order wafts from across the counter. Akechi watches as Akira pours a freshly brewed blend into his cup.

“You know me so well,” he says.

Akira gives him an indiscernible look. “I want to,” he says, and then walks away as if he didn’t take their little game and turn it completely upside down. Akechi takes a careful sip of his coffee.

His unpredictable frankness manages to catch Akechi off guard more times than he would like.

“How is it?” Akira says, wiping down the counter at the end of the bar.

“Delicious as always. You may give Sojiro a run for his money yet. Though I’d prefer if you kept that between us.”

“Sure, it’ll be our little secret.”

Akechi really has no one to blame but himself for setting that one up for Akira, for setting up the entire basis of their back-and-forth. ‘Welcome home’-- what in the hell made him think that was a good idea?

He busies himself with his work again, answering Akira’s questions with a few words or a contemplative hum. It’s a relief when Sojiro comes back and Akira leaves the counter to join his friends. At least in front of them he may be less overt.

That hopeful thought is quickly dashed when he later calls Akechi over and brandishes his right hand at him.

A large ‘A’ in the same font as the one on Akechi’s briefcase stands out against pale skin. Thin black lines encircle the letter in the shape of an ornate spade.

Akechi doesn’t want to ask.

Except he does want to ask; it’s killing him slowly not to ask.

“Geez, I wonder what it stands for,” Futaba says while rolling her eyes, unknowingly preserving Akechi’s dignity. Her shoulder has a stylized ‘4’ and club within two small circles, a larger circle enveloping both.

“An ace of spades, is it not? Commonly known as the death card, it also represents nobility and knighthood,” Yusuke says loftily and gazes at Akechi intently. “Our leader has… interesting tastes, to say the least.”

He holds his hand out towards him.

“Yes?” Akechi says, refusing to break eye contact.

“Akira has informed me you have offered to be another canvas. Now, please sit.” Yusuke motions to the spot next to Futaba.

Akechi sighs and sits down. “This is what you wanted me for?”

Akira shrugs. “Yusuke wants to practice. It’s cold enough to wear long-sleeves anyways, and you wear gloves.”

Grumbling, Akechi rolls up his sleeve and lays his left arm on the table with his palm upwards. “I don’t wear gloves every day.”

Akira pushes the stack of playing cards towards him, the ace of spades and the four of clubs already taken out and set to the side. There’s a glint in his eye. Mischievous. Challenging. He drums his fingers on the table, drawing Akechi’s attention to the ‘A’ once again.

He’s goading him.

Akechi looks back at the playing cards, determined to not back down. He goes through each card until he finds the one he’s looking for.

Next to him, Futaba laughs loudly as he slides it across the table for Yusuke to examine.

“Any personalization requests?” Yusuke asks, uncapping his pen.

“I don’t really-- Anything is fine. Just keep it small please. Simple,” Akechi says.

Nodding, Yusuke begins marking Akechi’s arm. “There is beauty in simplicity.”

“You guys are so gross,” Futaba snickers while tapping away vigorously at her phone. Akechi assumes she’s detailing everything to the rest of their group, an assumption that is all but confirmed when their phones start pinging simultaneously. “You better not distract each other when we go for the treasure.”

“Don’t worry. We know when to be serious,” Akira says. He waves his hand across his face, changing his expression to look more stoic before breaking into a large grin. Coupled with his unbelievable eyelashes, it’s no wonder he can bewitch shadows into joining him.

Forget shooting Akira, at this rate Akechi may just shoot himself to get everything over with.

Futaba snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “gonna have to save your butt”. Their phones ping again.

In a short time, Yusuke completes the lettering on his skin. Though he had no doubt that it would turn out well, Akechi is relieved to see that it’s small, just like he requested. 

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Yusuke says.

Akechi takes a closer look at the ‘joker’ written diagonally across the width of his arm. The lines are thick, jagged, and sleek. It reminds him of the sharp black detailing on Akira’s mask. “I would expect nothing less,” Akechi says, rolling up his sleeve once Yusuke confirms it’s safe to do so.

He’s getting up to leave and almost forgets to ask. “How long will this stay on?”

Yusuke blinks rapidly at him, as if such concern was irrelevant. “I suppose a week, perhaps two weeks,” he says slowly.

“We have school tomorrow, Akira,” Akechi says, staring at his hand.

The ‘A’ leaves his sight as Akira brings his hand back to rub his neck. “Ah… whoops,” he says.

“Akira!” Futaba jumps in.

“They already think I’m a delinquent.”

“Still.”

“I’ll scrub it really hard? Maybe I can find a band-aid to--”

He stops short and looks up at Akechi with a bewildered expression.

Akechi rubs his fingers together self-consciously. It’s a mindless habit he’s picked up ever since he first started wearing gloves regularly. The added layer of leather between his fingers became second nature rather than when his hands were bare.

His hand is bare.

Realization dawns on him as quickly as the heat travels up his neck to his face.

“Akechi?” Akira holds the glove between them, fingers loose around the offending object.

Akechi is seriously considering taking the bullet to the head now. If he’s acting solely on impulse now he may just do it once he gets home.

“We’re of similar size, yes?” He ignores Futaba’s restrained snort. She’s barely holding in her laughter, both hands clasped around her mouth. Akechi steels himself to keep his voice steady. “I have many spares, so I’ll lend you this one.”

Akira’s gaping at him. It’s a cold comfort seeing his cheeks start to color as well.

“Well, I’ve stayed here long enough. If you’ll pardon me,” Akechi says and forces himself to walk at a normal pace to the exit.

He pretends he doesn’t hear Futaba’s explosive cackling as the door swings closed behind him.

The group chat becomes unbearable during the train ride back to his apartment. Thanking whatever higher beings that may be for giving him a break for once in his lifetime so he could establish the date of their calling card beforehand, Akechi sets the message thread on silent. If they sincerely need him, then they can text him individually.

No sooner has he finally found some peace and quiet than does his phone ping.

**Akira:** Sorry about this  
I can tell them to stop

**Akechi:** That’s quite alright. I can endure some light teasing.

There’s a pause. Then the bubble icon indicating Akira is typing appears. Then it disappears. Then it appears again. Akechi keeps his eyes on the screen as the bubble bobs up and down. Finally a message forms.

**Akira:** Good to know  
Even after we disband, will I get to see you?

Akechi’s fingers hover over the keyboard. Just a few weeks ago he would have looked at such a suggestion and scoffed. Just a few weeks ago he had thought of Akira as ‘the leader of the Phantom Thieves’ and not simply ‘Akira’.

Just a few weeks ago he was able to tell himself that the reason he had constantly approached Akira was to garner intel, and not because of a juvenile urge to demand the attention of someone who he not only found intriguing and competent but also absurdly attractive once he looked past the unassuming facade.

It isn’t like him to think of any of his targets as anything beyond just that. He receives an assignment, makes niceties and lies through his teeth to lower their defenses, and then eliminates them when they’re least suspecting. Rinse and repeat.

Akira had been the first target who had shared the same quiet anger towards authorities as he. The way he unabashedly opposed his statement on the Phantom Thieves on camera and the way his eyes locked onto Akechi’s when he accused adults of using the young had thrilled him. Even knowing the foundation of their relationship was built on lies, Akechi had felt drawn to him, and had desired his attention.

_Was your previous decision a mistake then?_

His eye twitches. He thinks of the pile of work he needs to get through and decides a long nap supersedes all other priorities. He clearly needs one if he is continuing to hallucinate that disembodied voice that sounds eerily like Akira.

The train reaches his stop in due time, and he’s entering his apartment after a short walk. He throws his briefcase and clothes to the floor, clad only in his underwear by the time he shuffles into his bed and under his comforter.

He types out an answer quickly before tossing his phone to the side.

**Akechi:** We may discuss it when the time comes.

\--------------------------------------

Though battered, bruised, and barely lucid, Akira manages to stare at Akechi defiantly, never mind the gun that he just used to murder the guard still in his hand.

“Have you pieced it all together?” Akechi says. He turns to him and walks slowly forward.

He stops for a moment. Then, his grip on the gun tightens, and he points it directly at Akira’s forehead. The smile comes out forced, painful.

First with Okumura and now Akira. He doesn’t appreciate the recent urge to grow a conscience. The only factor that could possibly have influenced his thinking in such a way is staring at him from the barrel of his gun. Once it’s out of his way, he can be rid of such worthless sentimentality.

“Case closed… This is how your ‘justice’ ends,” Akechi says and squeezes the trigger.

It feels like an eternity; his heart is beating in his ears. He just needs to keep going, keep going, keep going!

_Are you forsaking him to save yourself?_

A sound quieter than the ping his phone makes brings him back to reality.

Akira’s head drops to the table with an unceremonious thump, splattering a red crown around his portrait. Akechi watches quietly as a stream of blood runs to the side of the table. He waits, counting time with every drip resonating through the silence of the room.

He doesn’t feel anything.

With all that talk about soulmates the past few weeks, he thought there would be something, _anything_ , once he severed the connection. It’s pitiable really, seeing the still corpse before him. Akira had spent so much time insinuating they were soulmates, had been so cocky and self-assured about it too.

In spite of himself, he can’t help but trace the lines still present on Akira’s splayed hand with his finger. The ace of spades is jet-black against his skin, appearing as freshly-inked as the day he had gotten it.

Akechi feels his face twist as he imagines Akira washing his hands carefully to avoid scrubbing at the ink and delicately patting it dry.

Perhaps that’s why he takes care when placing the gun in Akira’s hand and twisting it over.

He tucks the silencer into his blazer with a stretched smile that starts to ache, and gives the body one last look and leaves.

\--------------------------------------

The following week simultaneously feels aggravatingly slow and exceedingly fast. Akechi continues his interviews on various television programs, attends school when he can, completes his homework, writes up case files and police reports, and avoids coffee and anything coffee flavored.

He was lucky enough that the last time he visited a cafe and ordered coffee was during an odd hour. The bathroom had been mercifully empty when he had dashed inside to spit and rinse his mouth out over the sink.

Surrounding sounds and words have become muted white noise. No longer does he notice the excited chattering of fans who recognize him on the street. Interviewers drone on and on, asking one vapid question after another.

Shido, high on the seemingly effortless progression of his plans, goes on grandiose spheals and eats up every flattering comment Akechi makes.

Everything is going as planned, and it’s so excessively dull.

He’s on another segment of Good Morning Japan, talking to hosts with too perfect teeth and a layer of makeup creating the illusion of immaculate skin and full red lips. He considers whether these hosts can see through his plastic facade like he can see through theirs.

A phone jingle goes off in the audience.

“Hey, who is that? If you don’t turn off your phone, the Phantom Thieves might change your heart!” the male host says.

“A phone?” Akechi says.

The blood drains from his face as the realization hits him.

He never felt Loki return.

“See? Even Akechi’s face has stiffened up.”

He needs the interview to end.

“A-Ah, sorry about that. I’m not bothered. Just make sure to turn it off when you go to the movies!”

He needs the interview to end.

A deep, booming laugh thunders in his ears.

He needs the interview to end. He needs the interview to end. He needs it to end. He needs it to end. He needs it to--

It’s an hour before they wrap up the segment. It’s another half hour spent scheduling his next appearance and apologizing for having to dash so soon.

Yes, he enjoys the talks they have. No, unfortunately he cannot stay much longer. Yes, he is very sorry but promises to make up for it next time.

Akechi doesn’t quite run out of the building once he’s deterred any further attempts at pulling him into a conversation, but he comes pretty damn close to it. He mentally maps the fastest route to the Diet Building and opts to call a taxi to get there.

The booming laughter returns, and he has to restrain himself from punching the seat in front of him. He’s bouncing his leg, bumping his knee against his briefcase. The ‘A’ mocks him; it makes him sick to look at it.

Finally the taxi reaches its destination. After paying, Akechi nearly trips climbing out of his seat. At an adequate distance away in a secluded spot, he pulls out his phone and taps on the familiar red eye.

The ship representing Shido’s palace is garish as usual. He slips past shadows as naturally as breathing, having had navigated through the ship’s interior countless times before.

He remembers the mix of relief and terror he had felt when he had first stepped into Shido’s palace and his clothes had changed immediately. Young and foolish as he had been, he hadn’t predicted Shido would regard him with suspicion so quickly.

Now, chasing down someone who he’s reported as dead, he’s almost grateful Shido has perceived and continues to perceive him as a threat.

He checks the locations of each shadow that holds a letter of recommendation. Though he should have expected as much from the group that has managed to see through his plan and trick him in return, he still feels a chill crawl down his spine once he concludes that the Cleaner is the last one remaining.

However, with the rate the Phantom Thieves are going at, they’ll at least be running out of stamina if the Cleaner doesn’t outright kill them. Akechi positions himself on the rafters above the hallway and waits.

Eventually he sees them. More importantly, he sees _him_.

At the helm, Akira appears as calm and sure as ever. Always so unphased, whether by a first kiss or a gun pointed at his head.

As if he can sense the laser-focus stare directed at him, Akira abruptly stops and turns around to look up.

The wind rushes in his ears as Akechi jumps down. Everything still sounds muffled, the clanking of machinery, the creaking of the metal flooring, and the shouting from the Phantom Thieves.

He hasn’t even sunk this ship yet and everything transmits sound as if they’re underwater.

Then, Akira’s voice cuts through, clear and sharp.

“It’s not too late.”

Akechi can’t believe what he’s hearing. A choking laugh escapes him, the onslaught of noise as his ears choose to function again shocking him, and then his mouth is spilling out confession after confession, because it’s Akira. 

It’s Akira in front of him again. It's Akira who grabs his attention, Akira who snaps him back to reality, and Akira who makes everything else lackluster in comparison.

Only a week believing he was gone, that he would never see him again, and he’s already losing any semblance of control.

“I wonder why we couldn’t have met a few years earlier,” he says, unable to stop himself. 

Akira’s eyes flicker then, scrutinizing his face, as if he’s searching for something in Akechi’s expression.

Akechi ignores him, refuses to allow him to manipulate his emotions any further. He’ll show him, all of them, his true power.

Shadows answer his call and appear behind him. They’re likely a small threat, but Akechi isn’t the type to let his opponents off so easily.

He reaches out for Loki, and is pleased to feel him respond immediately. Not yet, he won’t call him back just yet. He’ll let Akira believe he has the upper hand for now; he just needs to cast one call of chaos.

No one but Akechi notices Akira take a sharp breath and clutch at his own chest when Akechi casts the spell.They’re all too focused on Loki’s shadowy figure, bewildered at the familiar silhouette.

“What was that? That wasn’t Robin Hood… Could it have been a different persona?” Futaba says in alarm.

Akira’s eyes dart from where Loki previously had been and Akechi. “Focus,” he wheezes.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

“It’s nothing.” Akira shakes his head and then faces the shadows. Akechi retreats for the time being, anticipation pulsing underneath his skin.

He intends to observe the group as a whole, to observe any new strategies or abilities they may have acquired since Sae’s palace, but his eyes inevitably drift towards Akira for the remainder of the battle. The shadows only chip away at the thieves’ health, disintegrating into black dust in due time.

“Of course I didn’t expect you to be defeated by them. You have deceived me and escaped death after all. I wouldn’t give up my chance to massacre you with my own two hands,” he says.

“Don’t do this,” Akira says, on the side of pleading.

Akechi’s fingers twitch. He clenches them into a fist, nails biting into his palm, and shoves away the affection his traitorous heart keeps lingering on. Robin Hood manifests behind him as he aims a kougaon at Akira.

Infuriatingly, Akira doesn’t even flinch, the spell nullies once it touches him. His first attack, his only surprise attack, and he wastes it using a spell Akira has seen him use numerous times. He could slap himself at his own idiocy if he didn’t have six other persona users now preparing an ambush.

He dodges most of the spells casted at him, weathering the ones that do hit, and narrowly avoids the bat Ryuji swings at his legs.

Akira is in his direct line of sight, hand poised as if he is about to call his persona. There’s a stricken look in his eyes as Akechi rushes at him.

He’s so close, it’ll be messy, but with enough force he can plunge his sword into him and do enough irreparable damage that even a diarahan can’t heal him.

“Watch out!” Haru yells.

Having never met her mother and only having barely interacted with Haru for a few weeks, Akechi would still assume she takes after her mother based on the sheer lack of resemblance she has to her father.

Yet, the way she clenches her eyes and braces for impact after pushing Akira out of danger reminds him disturbingly of Okumura Kunikazu in his last moments. He hesitates, as he had hesitated then, questioning the lengths he must go for his plan.

A miracle punch catches him off guard in that moment. He falls to the ground, completely unguarded to the barrage of spells that follow.

They knock the air out of him, and he falls to his knees immediately after he tries to get up again. Laughably, the Phantom Thieves then try to psychoanalyze him, lecture him, as if they’re coaxing an errant child. It’s when the _cat_ , of all things, joins in that he snaps.

He doesn’t care anymore; either he’ll kill them or be killed. There’s no reason to keep in his innermost thoughts and insecurities anymore.

“How does someone like you have things I don't? How can a worthless piece of trash be more special than me?” he screams.

“That’s not the case,” Akira says, voice firm.

Akechi hates that he still acts so confident, so sure of himself. He hates that he still is the fearless, strong leader the Phantom Thieves look up to despite everything Akechi’s done to bring him to ruin.

He hates that he doesn’t perceive Akechi as a threat, and instead clings onto the silly notion that they’re friends.

He hates that he had wanted to be friends with him too.

“Is that supposed to be pity? You piece of shit!” Akechi wants to rip his hair out. He’s let himself play along with Akira and the rest of his simple-minded crew for far too long.

“Come! Loki!”

Finally his persona is returning, settling back in his heart where he belongs.

Across the room, Akira gasps harshly enough to echo off the walls. His hands wrap around his neck, a red noose of his own making.

Furious satisfaction pulses through Akechi’s veins. He sneers as Akira continues to take large gulping breaths. Just as Ann had done for him at Sae’s palace, she now coaxes Akira to sit down. She props him up with protective arms and looks up worriedly at the rest of the Phantom Thieves.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Ryuji yells, stomping his foot and holding his fist up.

“I didn’t do anything,” Akechi snarls, “I just took back what was mine.” Loki erupts behind him then, drawing their attention.

“That’s--”

“Wasn’t that one of Joker’s personas?”

“They can’t be…”

They’ve been such an incredibly noisy bunch. Akechi can’t wait to kill them all.

“It really is a useful ability. You can recruit shadows and personas as your own. Yet, how unfortunate for you,” he says, “Loki isn’t some weakling you can just take. He knows who his true master is.”

Wasting no time, he casts call of chaos on himself. No more hesitation, no more lingering feelings, the only thing he’s concerned about is carrying out his revenge. He feels his pretenses fade away and basks in his state of pure unadulterated frenzy.

His bottled rage envelops him and melts through his princely facade. He relishes in the others’ shock; he should have shown them his true colors from the start.

The familiar belts tightening around his limbs are a welcome weight, grounding him. He breathes hard against his helmet, feeling it reverberate around his ears.

“Now, let’s see you drop dead one at a time, in front of your precious friends!”

Rid of the worthless sentiment formed during their stint together in Sae’s palace, all he can process now is pure, hot anger bursting out. Through his mask, Akira’s figure is blanketed in red. Akira, Akira, Akira.

He lunges without thinking, claws out, eager to rip into him. 

Yusuke intercepts him, blocking Akechi’s attack with the blunt side of his sword, though he loses against him in raw strength. He cries out when his own weapon slices into him, sharp claws digging in his chest around the blade, streams of blood slowly leaking out as Akechi bears down on him.

An armored fist rushes at him, caught just in time in the corner of his eye so he can dodge it by jumping back. He flicks his wrist to the side to get rid of any lingering blood.

They’re watching him warily. Ryuji and Makoto ready themselves in fighting stances after glancing back at the rest of the team surrounding Akira. Akechi grins, taking it as a challenge to maneuver past them all to reach the final prize.

He casts tetrakarn and makarakarn on himself, scoffing when Haru does so as well, though she chooses to cover Yusuke and Akira rather than herself.

“Get ready!” Futaba’s voice projects from above. Akechi barely registers her presence.

He rushes at Makoto and Ryuji, dodges the swift punch Makoto aims at his side so that tetrakarn can repel the bat Ryuji swings into his helmet. There’s a satisfying cracking noise followed by a thud and groaning. Knowing Makoto will stop to heal the buffoon, Akechi keeps his pace.

Unconcerned of the damage he’ll receive from a curse spell, he casts maeiga. It hits everyone he expected it to but Yusuke, who evades it easily.

That’s annoying.

He rebounds from getting hit by his own spell just in time to block Yusuke’s sword with his own. Yusuke doesn’t back away, still using the blunt side despite it backfiring against him earlier. Akechi has a half a mind to cause some actual damage this time--

“Go, power up!” Futaba says. Distracted by her words, Akechi stumbles backwards from Yusuke’s unexpectedly strong shove.

Sharp, slicing winds knock him down and then amplify the pillar of fire that swirls up from underneath him.

He’s choking from the smoke, rolling on the floor to put out the flames alight on his body. His gasps continue, become harsher, when Loki drifts away.

On the floor, he tilts his head up just enough to see Akira standing with Haru’s support. Akira has his hand out and beckons Loki forward.

Akechi feels one last surge of unbridled anger. He won’t let Loki be taken away again.

Focusing all his energy into the endeavor, he demands Loki’s attention, so smug in Loki’s instant withdrawal to his side that it takes him longer than it should to realize that it had no effect on Akira. He’s still breathing normally, taking his arm off Haru’s shoulders to stand by himself.

Instead it’s Akechi who’s completely winded. Loki and the call of chaos fade away, leaving him in exhausted resignation. He blinks, a delirious laugh bubbling in his throat as he pushes himself up to his knees.

Ryuji enters his line of vision “You ready to call it quits?” he sighs.

“I know… I’ve had enough,” Akechi says. Then to Akira, “I don't understand.”

Akira grins tiredly. It’s incredibly attractive still, Akechi realizes as his heart lurches.

“He was always yours,” Akira says with a shrug.

Loki stirs within him insistently.

He was always Akira’s too.

A sharp tug and he's brought up to his feet. He’s dizzy from the sudden shift in perspective, so he doesn't register who helped him up until Ryuji claps him hard on the back. He stumbles forward from the impact, still not at full strength, and watches dazedly as Ryuji and Makoto regroup with the rest of the Phantom Thieves.

“I don’t understand,” Akechi says again. He had noticed they were holding back during their fight, and that they had been looking to subdue rather than kill. But to now act companionable was downright absurd.

“After everything I’ve done, how can you all…?”

“I have no intention of forgiving you for what you did to my father, but,” Haru says, “I sympathize with you. I wholeheartedly understand wanting to get back at the adults who took from you.”

Then, with a ferocity that has Makoto grabbing onto her in shock, she shouts, “I know what it’s like to be used as a pawn too!”

Akechi blinks, clenches and unclenches his hand. “You’re right. You shouldn’t forgive me; you should be getting rid of me,” he says.

“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy! If you’ve got more than one persona, maybe you actually have the same kinda power as Joker’s. That’s too useful to pass up,” Futaba says.

Her enthusiasm puzzles him. Another person he’s irreparably affected, and she is choosing to welcome him. 

Every relationship he’s had prior has been transactional. He doesn’t understand.

“All right, let’s go back and get that callin’ card ready! We’re gonna take Shido down. What’re you gonna do?” Ryuji says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“It’d be a problem if you kept getting in our way. Wanna come along and help us settle things?” Ann chirps.

He doesn’t understand at all.

“You all are truly beyond my comprehension,” he laughs in disbelief.

“We’re friends,” Akira says. Akechi’s head snaps over so quickly to lock eyes with him he’s surprised he didn’t inadvertently increase his kill count. Akira holds his hand out, just as he had with Loki. “Let’s go, we can figure out the details later.”

Akira’s smile is so warm, lighting up like a shooting star, and Akechi can’t help but fall for him again. He wonders if this overflowing desire is what Loki felt when he seeked out Akira’s heart. For once in this entire wretched situation, maybe he can allow himself to indulge in his desires.

Naturally, that’s when a cognitive version of himself struts over and pulls a gun on him.

Oh, he’s so tired.

It’s such an odd failsafe, Akechi thinks, and yet, beaten down to exhaustion, he’s at the complete mercy of a mere puppet. He almost laughs at how stupid it is.

“You know what? I’ll let someone volunteer to take his place. Who knows, you might delay his death,” the cognition says.

“Damn you…” Ryuji growls.

“I’ll go,” Akira says.

The cacophony of voices bounce off the walls as the rest of the thieves yell their opposition. Akechi stares at him as he shuffles forward with his hands up, knowing he won’t back down even with his friends urging him to stay back.

“I don’t need you to save me,” Akechi says, but Akira merely shakes his head and comes closer. “Joker! Don’t you dare!”

“Oh? I suppose you were useful in the end after all,” the cognition says to Akechi, watching Akira hungrily, “Go on, trade places with him. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Akechi glares at the cognition, ruminating on how he can push Akira back, and what he can do without drawing attention. The rest of the thieves are compromised, unable to move while within the cognition’s line of sight.

Running through all possible scenarios that could follow, Akechi settles on the option that has the highest probability of succeeding.

He had been planning to kill or be killed anyways.

Akechi’s heart pounds in his ears as he passes Akira, eyes forward, and summons Loki.

In the next adrenaline-filled seconds, Akechi manages to shoot the cognition past the swirling red flames, shoot the emergency lockdown switch for the bulkhead door, and command Loki to protect Akira from the retaliating gun fire. His persona wraps around him familiarly-- his second master.

“Akechi--!”

“Let’s make a deal, okay? You won’t say no, will you?” Akechi says, smiling bitterly. His hand trembles as he pulls at the glove on Akira’s right hand, the gunshot Loki absorbed materializing on his abdomen.

“Ake--” Akira breathes in sharply when he notices the dark stain spreading through his clothes, “Goro, don’t…”

Akechi pulls the glove down, the material wrinkling and bunching up, just enough to see the faded ace of spades on Akira’s hand. He rubs his thumb over it. “Change Shido’s heart… in my stead. End his crimes… please?”

Akira’s face crumples and his voice wavers. “I’ll hold on to your glove.”

“After all this, that’s what you have to say? Seriously, you really are…” Akechi chuckles weakly, dips his head forward, and kisses him. He loses himself in the brief moment as Akira kisses back.

“Take care of him,” he murmurs when he pulls away. He doesn’t know if he’s talking to Akira or Loki.

Panicking, the revelation of Akechi’s intention to stay finally dawning on him, Akira frees an arm from Loki’s grip. “Goro, we can go together. Goro!”

Loki flies above the sliding bulkhead door, holding onto Akira tightly despite the latter’s attempt to squirm away.

Mirroring Akira’s outstretched hand, Akechi reaches out with his own and smiles when he sees the red of his glove disappear behind thick steel.

Once the bulkhead door shuts, sealing the way through, the cognition across him straightens up. “You bastard…” it croaks, but Akechi is listening to the voice that enters his mind again.

_If you are fated to continue past this point, then we shall surely meet again._

Akechi barks out a pained laugh as he gathers the remainder of his strength to point his gun at the frankly insulting version of himself. “I don’t believe in fate, but if I survive, I’ll humor you,” he grimaces.

Two shots ring out, and for the first time in his life, he feels nothing but bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I appreciated every kudo and comment uwu. It's a sad ending, but! there may be more :3c For now I sleep.


End file.
